Bloody Canyon
by Prosthetics
Summary: Cristina Abernathy gets a call from her uncle to spend the summer in Caineville, Utah with him. Her vacation appears to be fine until she runs into Mac, a greasy hick who forms an obsession with her and will do whatever it takes to have her.
1. Chapter 1

**One.**

July had finally arrived, whether Cristina Abernathy wanted it to or not. Spending the summer in her uncle Samuel's dingy house in Caineville, Utah seemed almost soothing to her. It was a much needed change in scenery which was beckoning to her, drawing her out to the desert to start her life anew in the nearly barren wasteland which was free of computers, cell phones, and all other forms of communication as if fate had something special in store for her. But it wasn't fate as much as it was her father unexpectedly dying of a heart attack four months prior while traveling to Caineville was a seemingly harmless vactional decision appointed by no one other than Uncle Samuel himself.

Uncle Samuel was a fairly strong man who held his beliefs high except for in the face of other people, considering the majority of people hated having one's beliefs shoved down their throats. It was a principle he grew to learn over the years. If he had children, perhaps, then just maybe he would have had the opportunity to share his beliefs with them but no. He had no children, leaving his niece to be the closest thing he'd ever have as a daughter, especially after his wife died last May; Cristina was a great comfort to him when no one ran to his rescue.

Uncle Samuel's house was a one story, two bedroom and bathroom, located just inside the desert, mountains surrounding the area with canyons in the distance, three miles away from any neighbors. A year ago this house was remodeled but still dingy, the rusted pipes now pure steel and healthy and the chipped, peeling walls were contented and painted over with care. Cristina noted how the aroma of the place was a mixture of floral essence and faint cologne, a fairly pleasant smell to wake up to in the morning. And then there was the matter of no air conditioners installed which forced her bedroom to be hotter than expected, having no choice but to pry the window open and prayed it rain. Either way, she wasn't getting off that easily.

Since Uncle Samuel did not own a television set, Cristina opted to enjoy the scenery of the large mountains or perhaps the vast, empty canyons, thinking about hiking in an effort to experience the desert to see what it had to offer her. The canyons, she imagined, were filled with stories over the ages and held secrets inside them like a cherished chest full of a person's darkest secrets-whether they were good or bad- and kept locked away by a key, perhaps, hidden in a wall in the hole where no one would ever dream of searching. The vast, empty canyons lured her in the same way an abandoned house would draw someone in. Old abandoned houses were deemed to be haunted and if not haunted then infected with something sinister yet there are people who take the chance and venture out in search of the truth and whatever lies beyond the front entrance of that house, whatever evil or history that lies within that place, that person soon becomes part of it, branding their souls into the unknown. That was actually what Cristina was choosing to do: stepping foot inside the canyons, not knowing what lay beyond them but she figured she would find out all on her own and it was a beautiful day to do it. She dressed for the weather; she wore a pair of black shorts and a matching tang top which fitted nicely around her body and then she packed, bringing only necessities: water and food.

Upon leaving, she was stopped by Uncle Samuel who told her not to venture too far into the desert. He warned her that it was much too dangerous for a girl to be hiking out past the canyons alone; something could happen to her and he wouldn't be there to help her, he feared. Staying home would most likely benefit the two of them, seeing as that was what he was implying. When he spoke, he held such fear that he automatically implied something terrible would occur if she treaded out into the canyons and this got her going. She couldn't comprehend why her uncle was ghastly, why he feared for her safety like this. Had something horrendous happened one day when he was out there himself? Was someone out there who was considered a threat? Whatever the matter was, she promised to not go out the canyons but she didn't promise to not wander around outside a bit. After all, she was on vacation.

Calming down after hysteria in the late afternoon, Uncle Samuel suggested to his niece that she might want some fresh air and a delicious meal to go with it, seeing as he couldn't afford to leave his work station at the moment. He had been in the garage fixing up a truck as he gave her directions to The Luna Mesa, a bar and restaurant all in its own. The bar was owned and run by a close friend of her uncle's named Walter, an older man with long gray hair tied back and a mustache. Pulling out his wallet, he handed his niece a wad of cash for the night before warning her: "Be home by nine o'clock, Crissy." His words were crisp and commanding as if he expected trouble to erupt after nine. A sudden chill crawled down her spine as his words sunk in, instilling an unnecessary fear inside her. Was this his plan all along, to cause her paranoia and trepidation to the point of confining her within the stuffy house? If this was the case then why did he insist upon her spending the summer with him? Clearly, restrictions should not be made during times of relaxation. No, there had to be more to his warnings. He was usually a laid back person but when it came to his family he grew over protective.

Cristina quickly shook the startling thoughts away, knowing for a fact that her uncle meant no harm. This was a new town, new state….here she was probably considered a tourist while her uncle a local. With new environments came unfamiliar faces and not all were pleasant or helpful, she came to learn over the years. She cold understand, to a certain degree, her uncle's worry with her being petite and quiet beautiful with golden brown hair flowing past her delicate shoulders. If pinned against an enemy, she would be no match, being meek, but in any sense she told herself she was capable of managing.

"I'm just going out for dinner, Uncle Samuel, not a rave. I know that you're worried about me, especially after Daddy died but the truth is…I can take care of myself. It's not like I'll meet up with someone there…" Before she could say another word, she was cut off.

"Crissy, please." He half pleaded with her. "Come home before nine. You're a pretty girl and like any place you would go, you'll end up in the wrong place. I just want you to be safe, that's all."

"Alright," She nodded her head, agreeing to his conditions. "If it gets you through the night I will. Don't worry about me, uncle." Standing on her tipy toes, she planted a soft kiss on his cheek to reassure him. "Would you like me to bring you something back?"

"No, sweetheart. Walter makes the most delicious cheeseburgers you will ever taste, I'm telling you. You ought to try one before you head back to New Jersey." Uncle Samuel suggested, returning to his old self again. Cristina smiled at the sudden change, welcoming it with open arms. "Have fun, dear."

On the way to The Luna Mesa, Cristina's thoughts were nothing of cheeseburgers and ice cold soda to go with it. Instead, she thought of her hot stay, she would become captured and sent screaming to the canyons for help when no one would give a damn to lift a finger and help. She could be kidnapped, attacked, or left for dead and no one would know sent chills down her spine as her uncle's worry ate at her. The dreadful thoughts were pushed aside….she could not be like her uncle and have paranoia consume her. It was impossible for her to live the next two months like this…she just couldn't so she needed to clean her mind soon enough and pay no mind to him.

Much to her luck, The Luna Mesa was air conditioned, a savior sent down from heaven to look after her in the heat. Relief and coolness washed over her body the moment she waltzed inside the bar, taking in the atmosphere of the Luna Mesa. The bar/restaurant looked exactly like a place you'd find in the middle of the desert, she noted, with animal heads stuffed on the walls and a jukebox sitting to the left of the entrance. Uncle Samuel told her he went here ever Friday for some whiskey…he and Walker chatted casually like old friends. She looked around for this Walter but not until she took a seat in the far corner of the bar where no one would care to notice her.

"Can I get you anything, miss?" An old bandito spoke up, abruptly standing next to her table. Cristina lifted her head up, staring up at him and discovered him to be Walter, the man her uncle told her about. By the way he stood, she saw he held a strong demeanor and by looking at her, he saw the girl his closet friend had described. "You are just as pretty as your uncle said you were."

Cristina blushed at the compliment, her cheeks turning bright red. If anything, she didn't consider herself pretty but she would take whatever she could receive and suck it up. "I…thank you. You know my uncle?"

"Your name is…Cristina, I presume?" When she nodded her head, he smiled, pointing a friendly finger at her. "Ah, how could I forget such a wonderful name for such a beautiful gal like you? Tell me…why come out here when you could be having fun. Your uncle said you just graduated, no?" Cristina felt oddly uncomfortable that the stranger knew so much about her and for the moment, she loathed her uncle.

"I had no where else to stay really and my uncle insisting on me staying with him….it makes a lot of sense since I'm low on cash. Caineville's a nice change in scenery, it seems."

"You will have to say hello to your uncle for me. Now, what can I get you?" Walter turned all of his attention of her, not even blinking which striked Cristina as strange.

"I think I'll have a cheeseburger, well done." She didn't even have to think about it, having her uncle's suggestion burned into her mind already.

"I will have it out in a few. It was nice meeting with you, Cristina and I must say that it's such a tragedy about what happened to your father." Cristina couldn't help but watch him stalk off towards the kitchen, feeling a strange vibe rub off of him. Eating her cheeseburger when it finally arrived, her taste buds flared. Her uncle had been right. This was the best cheeseburger she ever tasted. After eating, she found Walter at the counter where she slapped money down onto all the while staring down at her watch which read 8:50 PM. She had ten minutes to get back to Uncle Samuel before he started asking questions.

'God, he is so paranoid. Why is he so afraid, anyways? The locals seem nice.' She thought to herself, only caring about getting home safely. Walter bid her goodnight before she whirled around to head off but just as she went for the door, her path was blocked.

"Well, what do we have here?" Cristina found herself to be staring down piercing blue eyes, belonging to a greasy hick who appeared to want nothing more than to violate her. His hair was greasy and dark brown and was covered in grease and sweat, smelling of cigarette smoke, musk, and liquor. By paying close attention, she saw his teeth were blackened. He was disgusting. "What's a pretty girl like you doing out here this late?"

"This girl is the niece of one of my closet friends, Mac. I suggest you leave her alone." Walter warned but to no avail, Mac ignored him with a flick of his hand.

Cristina's instincts told her to run but every time she moved, he seemed to move two steps in front of her. "I really need to get going….it's getting late." She started off strong in the wake of her explanation but as she trailed off, her voice grew meek.

"Why? I just got here….I say you stay a while and drink with me." Trying to push past him, Mac grabbed her by the elbow, his fingers bruising her fair, smooth skin. On her skin, his hands felt disgusting, hot and rough. In one quick movement, she jerked her elbow free, caressing it. "Drink with me…"

"I don't drink at all, sorry."

This time, he curled his strong fingers around her left arm and pulled her closer to his body. "You will if I say you are." His fingers dug deep into her skin as if he meant to pierce her. "You'll have whiskey…" Moving towards the bar counter and dragging Cristina with him, he grabbed two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey. Releasing his grip from her arm, she took this as an advantage and hurried out of The Luna Mesa, hoping to god that Mac wasn't following behind her.

"Hey!" Mac yelled behind her, storming after her in frustration and anger. Grabbing her by the arm before she could even make it to her car, he violently yanked her to him, dragging her off to his truck which is a red Silverado with four floodlights mounted on the top. He bent her over the open tailgate of his truck.

"Let me go!" She yelled, hoping someone from inside would hear and save her from this vile, frightening man.

"Shut up before you cause a scene!" In one hand, he held her wrists and pinned her arms behind her back, twisting them painfully. "Why do you have to ruin everything? I just wanted to have some drinks. You're gonna bit your tongue and stay a while."

"Fuck off." Frantically, she kicked at him but he only pinned her legs against the truck with one of his.

All of a sudden, her body seized as she felt a cold, sharp blade trailing along her spine. Mac had her tang top lifted up to her neck, revealing the fact that she wore no bra. "Tsk..tsk.. Are you going commando too?" Without warning, his right hand shot between her legs and grabbed her crotch, squeezing hard. He squeezed again and nudged her legs apart. Though her mind screamed no, her body responded and she grew wet between her thighs. "You like when I touch you, don't you? Dirty girl…"

"No! Please let me go….I'll go inside and have a few drinks with you." She struggled to free herself, thrashing around in his grasp.

Mac pressed the blade against her skin hard enough to make her feel the slight pain but not enough to break the skin. He was slow with his actions, teasing her. " But I'm just getting started." He smirked. His long, hunting knife fished out her laced panties from her blue shorts. "Maybe I should pull these off you for disrespecting me. You'd look a lot better without them." She waited for the right moment to kick him in the shin, when he was grinding against her, his erection pressing up into her inner thigh. Grunting, Mac stumbled backwards but quickly recovered, going for her again. "Fucking bitch!" Just as he went to push her back over the open tailgate, a shotgun cocked and was aimed at his head. It was the Sheriff.

"Alright, son….let the poor girl go." Sheriff Collins demanded and Mac stepped away from Cristina, putting his hands up in defeat, dropping the knife. "You alright, miss?"

Standing up straight and attempting to breathe, despite her difficulty now, she nodded her head. "I-I'm fine, officer." She couldn't help but steal a glance at Mac who did nothing but glare at her, ignoring the sheriff. "No cuts," She was grateful for Sheriff Collins; if he hadn't shown up when he did, who knows what would've happened. Equipped with a hunting knife, she stood no chance, not that she could fight back. He terrified her.

"Why don't you go on home now, Miss Abernathy? Take it easy and rest for the night. Mac won't be bothering you again, I'll make sure of it myself." Sheriff Collins turned to her before going back to Mac. "And you….I don't want to catch you laying a finger on her again, you hear me? You'll scare the poor girl off and that won't look good on my record." He waited for Cristina to get inside her car before he took off towards the Luna Mesa.

"Hey," Mac called out to Cristina, the sheriff obviously gone now. "Cristina dared to look at him through the window and what she saw was Mac stick his tongue out and flick it at her. "I hope to see you soon." Starting up the engine as fast as possible, she tore out of the parking lot and drove herself home.

It was an unnerving twenty minutes back to Uncle Samuel's house. Locking her uncle's spare care inside the garage next to the one he was repairing, she slowly made her way inside, feeling like her body was dipped in grime. As soon as she opened up the front door, she knew instantly that her uncle was trying to protect her from Mac. Why else would he giver her a set time to come home…. this man seemed to be a regular at The Luna Mesa and a perverted sex freak.

"Crissy, what the hell happened?" Uncle Samuel could see her body practically shaking, the fear in her eyes in which he held earlier today. "And didn't I tell you to come home before nine?"

"I had a run in with this man…." She itched at the bruise on her elbow, feeling her arm and legs tingle as she remembered the way he handled her. "He was so disgusting. I…" She couldn't continue the rest of her sentence.

"It was that bastard Mac, huh? Did he hurt you?" Her uncle demanded.

Cristina shook her head, making it clear to him that she was absolutely terrified of Mac which made him angrier. Perhaps if he had gone with her to the Luna Mesa then he could've protected her…but either way, he knew Mac better than he knew anyone. And because of this, he knew this was just the beginning.

"Get to bed now, Crissy. You'll be safe under my roof and when you wake up in the morning, this will all seem like a terrible nightmare." Uncle Samuel attempted to reassure his startled niece, laying her down in her cozy bed. He got Cristina in agreement and convinced her she'd b e alright but he certainly wasn't. Sometime tonight, Mac was going to show up, he judged and not once did he doubt it. He had not been at the Luna Mesa but the hunt had begun…the greasy hick knew about her and now that she was finally in Caineville, Mac would do whatever it took to have her.

Cristina watched with big eyes as Uncle Samuel stalked out of the room, leaving her door wide open as a precaution which she was glad for. She was exhausted but she could not fall asleep just yet as her uncle went around the entire house, locking all the doors and windows so no intrusion would occur. And it wasn't until the sound of a shotgun cocking that a sudden realization hit her. The man she ran into at the bar wasn't just any perverted greasy hick…he must've been dangerous and frightening for her uncle to decide to take out his gun and sleep with it. Her blood ran cold at the disturbing thought. But he had convinced her he would be her protector until this mess was over.

Even if he waited all night in the living room with his shotgun in his arms, ready to pull the trigger, Cristina was unnerved and sure all his efforts were useless. Part of her expected Mac to barge in; his words "I'll see you soon" ate away at her sanity and she desperately wanted to listen to her uncle's words but she was unable to. What prevented her was the impending fear and paranoia. She got up and turned off her bedroom light, darkness consuming the room whole almost like a black void. Staring into the dark, she found her way back to the soft, cozy bed on the other side of the room and climbed inside, pulling the bed sheet over her body. For nearly an hour, her was the walking dead, running on empty as her eyelids threatened to close on her. She struggled to stay awake, refusing to succumb but Uncle Samuel entered.

"For most of the night, I'll be out in my recliner so if you need me, you know where to find me. If anything happens, holler for me and I'll come running but don't worry, sweetheart. Mac won't step foot on my property. Get some sleep and I'll see you in the morning." A soft kiss was planted on her cheek before he exited the room, out to his watch position. Cristina rolled over onto her side, curling up into a ball as exhaustion finally possessed her…

It wasn't until two in the morning that a thunderous bang erupted through the dingy house, sounding as if a gun had gun off. Cristina woke up in a state of panic, bolting upright and covered in sweat as her blood ran cold. Fully awake, her eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of intrusion but fortunately, there was none. "Uncle Samuel?" She called out into the night, staring out through the open doorway and into the empty, narrow hall. "Uncle Samuel, was that you?" Raising her voice, she expected some type of reaction from her uncle but when there was no kind of reaction at all, she couldn't help but worry. There was no way she could comprehend why she was so damn worried when she knew he was fast asleep and perhaps he had just dropped his gun. Yes, he must've dropped his gun and it accidentally went off…but then why wasn't he awake? Wouldn't he have come to calm her down?

As much she loathed the idea, it was time to investigate. Kicking the sheets off her sweaty body, she climbed out of her bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boy shorts and an oversized T-shirt, the heat of the Utah desert nearly overwhelming for her. Swallowing hard, taking a deep breath, she exited the safety of her bedroom. She groped around for the light switch out in the hall and flicked it on instead of straining her eyes in the dark. As she walked slowly with caution, she mulled over countless possibilities of what she'd find. _Stop it! _She scolded herself. _Your uncle is fine so stop worrying so much! Mac is not here and I'm pretty sure doesn't even know where the hell you live… _

Reaching the living room all was silent. The lights were off which indicated he was probably still sleeping. With undeceiving eyes, she saw the figure of her uncle slumped over in his recliner, his left arm leaning over the arm of the chair. _Thank god, he's just sleeping. _She breathed a sigh of relief, forcing a smile over her pale face. _He's asleep and now I can go back to bed without any interference. _

Yawning, she turned on her heel, whirling around to head back to her bed all the while rubbing her eyes. _See, Crisitna? Mac never showed up. _Shutting off the lights, passing the light switch, she eventually climbed back in bed and the moment she laid her head down onto the pillow, her eyes closed as she drifted off…

Her sleep didn't last long, however. The sound of heavy footsteps creaking on the floorboards of the wooden floor kept her up. Her eyes fluttered open, hesitating after a moment of dead silence but once she thought she was her uncle up and about (probably a bathroom break), she closed her heavy eyelids. She fell back to sleep even as footsteps crept closer and closer towards her room. Feeling a presence in the doorway, she tossed and turned until she found a comfortable position.

The dark figure lingered in the doorway, his piercing cobalt eyes staring at the sleeping girl who held such innocence he never knew existed. Her uncle had been right about one thing: she was an angel, sweet and beautiful-a city girl for the taking, one who appeared to be a model in his eyes. Gripping his shotgun, covered in fresh blood, his fingers twitched at his sides as he sucked on his lower lip and bit it. Mac had the urge pounce on top of her, to just grab her, but he restrained himself. Cocking his head to the side, he slowly crept, inching closer to his obsession as the seconds passed, silently dragging his dirty steel toed boots across the wooden floor without any certainty of her waking up. He hovered over her, bending down so that his face was only an inch away from hers, his breath hot and heavy which added to the humidity of the desert.

Moving only slightly, he pressed his warm lips against her ear just as she stirred. He breathed but didn't exhale, whispering into her ear, speaking in a mocking manner. "Rinse and shine…" He waited for her to open her eyes before giving her a wide grin, exposing his ugly black teeth. Her heart thudded-no it stopped- as her first sight was Mac's face up close, the sight of him causing her eyes to widen and her skin crawl. He had, in fact, found her. She stifled a scream which was caught in her throat, threatening to choke her any minute now. Choking to death would have been the easy way out and she knew damn well that she wasn't lucky.

"You thought the old man could save you, huh? With the way he was brandishing that shotgun?" He stood up straight, tightening his grip on the gun to let her know he was armed. "I promised you I'd see you real soon, didn't I?" Even in the dark, she saw his eyes flicker like candles hanging on the wall, the flames illuminating the room. They were a mixture of lust and something sinister, pluming her deep within an abyss.

Cristina opened her mouth, forcing herself to scream and became determined to find her strength. She jerked up, sitting upright and crawled to the other side of the small bed in an effort to get away. Mac was faster, consequently, and curled his fingers around her ankles, his skin almost burning her pale flesh. He dragged her back to him, laying her out for good measure. "Where do you think you're going?" She felt the mattress sink down, shifting under the combined weight of her and Mac as he climbed on top of her, resting his knees down to the backs of hers. This move prevented her from kicking at him, his dead weight on her pasty legs but she fought anyway, finally finding her voice and screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping someone would hear her (seriously-who would be out in the desert at two in the morning?).

"That's it; scream. Your uncle can't hear you; his brain is all over the living room wall."

"No!" She screamed over and over, thrashing underneath him. "No, no! You bastard…let me go!"

"Do you want to see the bloody mess? I can show you his body…You really were stupid to think he was just sleeping. How about I smear your face into his blood?"

She was a mess, unable to cope with the fact Mac blew her uncle's brains all over the damn wall; she felt stupid for not noticing when she woke up because then maybe, she would have had the chance to escape. Uncle Samuel failed to protect her. _**He was dead because of her. **_

"No, you're a liar." A stream of hot tears flowed down her face, turning her head back to see dark splotches on Mac's hands and coveralls. She sunk deep into herself, wishing the bed frame would crack so she could fall through…hopefully into the deep depths of the earth and lie there until Death came for her. She couldn't help but take her words back, wishing she didn't, because the evidence was all too clear to not see. Her uncle was dead…Uncle Samuel had been brutally murdered….these were the only sentences her mind allowed her to think. _And it's your fault._ Sobbing uncontrollably, her entire body quivered, struggling to free herself in the process.

Mac, who was full of annoyance by the futile thrashing around, dropped the shotgun onto the wooden floor to give Cristina the indication that he is unarmed at the moment. "Shh…" He cooed, turning his shoulder coldly from her suffering. He pushed her face into the mattress, stroking the back of her head as he ran his dirty fingers through her luscious hair, pretending to comfort her when he was really grabbing a fistful of her hair. "Quiet now, pretty Crissy. It wasn't your uncle I wanted. It was you and I must say-his description did not do you justice. Oh no…." With a strong grip on her hair, he snaked his free hand down to the small of her back, his fingers grabbing the end of her night shirt. And without any hesitation, he pulled up her shirt which exposed her pale, smooth skin to his hungry eyes. "You know…you're brave to come out here, despite your uncle's dirty deeds but now, you're mine for the taking. I already know we're going to have so much fun."

"My uncle did nothing wrong! You're a fucking liar!" She refused to hear any justifications as to why he killed him; there was no reason to do so. "He was a good man!"

"You sure about that?" Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his trusty hunting knife which sparkled in the darkness. "You probably don't know every about the man you call 'Uncle Samuel'. He'd sell off the closest thing he has to a child just to save his life…I bet you didn't know that." Using his knife (he had it sharpened specially for this moment), he cut through her shirt, ripping it in two. Her bare back and pantied covered ass beckoned him to assault her with all his might and he was so close from giving in, nearly willing to jump off the cliff and enter temptation. He traced the line of her spine with his knife, trailing it up and down, never piercing her skin. For a meth addict, he was skilled yet Cristina trembled and whimpered under the touch of the cold blade, squeezing her eyes shut. "Your uncle is not the man you thought he was but I'll tell you that all in good time."

"Fuck you, Mac." She spat angrily.

"Oh, I plan to…" He promised, laughing as he seized her, grabbing her by the back of the neck and squeezed hard. Cristina shot her hands behind her, clawing at Mac, trying to dig her nails into his grimy hands. There was a problem with her plan because a struggle for dominance erupted with Mac using his free hand to pry her hands off his. His strong fingers ripped her off his, grunting her wrists and pinned them above her head. "Go ahead, Cristina. Fight me all you want but know that won't do you any good. I like you already…" Cristina shuddered as he bent down over her more, his lips brushing against her right ear.

Cristina had her face buried into the mattress, her head tossing back and forth as a fountain of tears rained down form her now puffy, red eyes. "Mac, please…" She threw her head back, turning her face in an effort to face him, thinking that if it was effective enough, he'd give in. "It's because I wouldn't drink with you, isn't it? I know you're pissed and I'm sorry…but I'll make it up to you, if you just let me go."

"Shut up," He bluntly ordered and climbed off her so he could flip her around onto her back. Her bare creamy white breasts were left exposed to his glazing eyes, hungry for lust. She meant to hide herself with her hands but Mac's rough hands found her plump breasts and kneaded them hard. "You don't listen, do you? Dumb bitch." As he groped and pinched her nipples, Cristina managed to free her legs, moving them on either side of him like she was straddling him, deciding if she was going to gain the upper hand, it would be now. Her attacker was oblivious to her next motive, sticking his head down between her breasts and grabbed one of her nipples with his lips, sucking on it like an infant in need of food. His hands trailed up and down sides just ti her feel her skin, tilting his head back only slightly so he could easily plunge night back.

_Kick him! _The voice in her head screamed, frantic and desperate to be free of this hell. _What are you waiting for? Just move you damn legs and kick him in the fucking face! _She jerked her legs up and gave a kick at his ribcage, forcing him to stumble back. The bad news about her plan was that he hadn't released himself off of her legs but while she still had the courage, she kicked at him a second time. Angry with a look that was down right scary, Mac grabbed onto her ankles, throwing her legs down with enough force to make her cry out.

"Fucking kick me again!" He dared her. "I had just about enough of you!"

The last thing Cristina remembered was a fist to her face, then nothing…


	2. Chapter 2

When she came to, there was no peaceful sound of birds chirping and neither was there the bright rays of sun shine to help her wake up. No, when you're in prison all the comforts you enjoyed or took for granted in everyday life aren't privileges you'd receive. All that surrounds you are the thick gray cemented walls inside your prison cell and in Cristina's case…the basement of Mac's beaten down shackle of a house which had a generator powering it. She may have had not waken up to pleasant sounds but the basement reeked of musk, smoke, and nicotine. If she put her keen senses to good use, she would have smelled a faint hint of cologne which was not even enough to mask the putrid smell. It took every thing either choke on it or swallow and she desired to not choose any option for the gag in her mouth threatened to do either.

If she sat up, the whole basement came into view. Other than the air conscription (the smells just horrendous), it appeared to be a regular basement; she laid gagged and bound in the center of the room on the cold cemented floor and to her right-against the far wall- stood a work station. There was a long light blue counter installed with cabinets full of contents she probably didn't even want to know of. She suspected it was rotten inside so if she were to ever hide, it would not be there. To the left of the counter was a tall work bench with metal poles underneath it and sitting on top was a bottle full of ammonia.

_What the hell does he do down here? It fucking reeks. What ever you do, Cristina, don't throw up. Don't throw up, don't throw up…_

She quickly moved her hands up (despite her difficulty), ripping the gag out of her mouth as nausea rose up in her stomach. The urge to vomit was strong in her throat and she found herself bending over, prepared to throw up any minute now but she couldn't. She would not allow herself and imagine she heard his voice, "If you vomit then you'll lay in it." Such a cruel punishment but Mac was an unsympathetic man who killed her uncle and took her in the middle of the night…ripping her clothes off and molesting her. She was able to still feel his touch, how his hands felt to her and his weight which n early crushed her. He was like a monster who seemed to have stepped right out of a horror movie or novel. To have his way he'd kill, do anything to chase his obsessions and lock them away in a cage…_Oh god…what if the greasy hick decides to lock me in a metal cage? No one will ever find my body and I'll go missing but who would come and investigate? My mother? Of course not; Uncle Samuel didn't own a phone so she'll suspect everything's alright. Oh god…No one will ever know….I bet this has happened before. I need to get out of here. _

Mac was not down in the basement with her so Cristina understood she only had minute to search for a way out but that was only if her legs could be freed. After a solid five minutes of attempting to undo the rope, she found it impossible by hand and but by then, the rope burned her fingers and ankles, chaffing the skin.

_Game over, I guess. Hey, Cris, at least you tried. You'll need a knife to cut that fucking rope…but wait! Check the cabinets. _

There was no reason to ignore the little voice in her head because there had to be supplies stored somewhere inside those cabinets. Managing to get up on all fours (no matter how awkward it was since she was bound), she set off to crawl towards the cabinets with enough determination to last the whole trip. The pace she moved at due to her restrictions was not as fast as she should have been but as she inched closer and closer to her destination, the voice cheered her on.

_Look, you're almost there! I can't believe it, Cris! All you have to do is find a knife…Yes, you can do it!_

In time, she made it safely to the counter, success running through her veins like a champion who won first prize at a race.

_You're doing great! Keep going, keep going…_

She planted herself down to sit as she opened the cabinet door to her left and the urge to vomit came to her again due to the putrid smell which was ten times as worse as the smell in the basement.

_Fuck, that's awful. If he doesn't keep himself clean or the basement, then his house upstairs must be a disaster. What a shit hole._

Pulling the cabinet door all the way opened, despite her better judgment and reoccurring nausea, she decided she should take a chance and rummaged through the contents of her captor's workplace. There wasn't much in this side except for a plastic bucket full of various tools-a hammer, nails, dirty rags covered in grease. But underneath all those rags laid a knife, a small one unlike Mac's menacing hunting knife. Her eyes lit up like two bulbs, eyeing the blade as if it held a holy significance to her being and was afraid to touch the object. A uncertain fear came to her just then that if she were to brush her fingers up against the cold, metallic surface, an alarm would be set off and page Mac who'd be pissed she went snooping through his belongings. Or a trap was set up inside and sharp blades would come shooting down on her unsuspecting hand, piercing through her flesh.

After reaching for the knife and nothing painful occurred, relief washed over her like a soothing tide. Retrieving the knife and holding it close to her, she cut through the rope, her wrists the first to be free which turned out to be the hardest for her. Now unbound, all she needed was to find an escape exit and fast.

_There's bound to be a window down here somewhere with the way he keeps this place like a gas chamber. Look for a window or something. _

This had to be heaven, she prayed, because in the far left corner of the basement sat a rectangular window large enough for a single person to slide through. This had to be heaven or a dream. Back in her bedroom, Mac had killed her after knocking her out cold, slitting her throat or fed her body to the hungry coyotes. This was almost too good to be true, she blinked, running towards the window. Heaven never seemed so sweeter and in fact, this was her first taste of the afterlife. Once escaping, she hoped to be reunited with Uncle Samuel to see if he's alright. He left the world not knowing the fate of his niece but now there was no reason for him to be worried sick. An image of reuniting with him clouded her mind while a moment of reality never hit her. Her mind was too occupied dreaming of Uncle Samuel hugging and smiling from ear to ear as he led her over to her late father where the Abernathy family would be able to start over. Cristina's mind refused to distinguish the difference until…the door to the basement creaked open.

In the fraction of a second, all hope abandoned her.

Mac's heavy steel toed boots dragged and scoffed along the wooden stairs.

Cristina's soul diminished, her heart racing erratically. Shivers crawled down her spine, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. She was not dead nor was she in a deep slumber; there was no escaping the horror, oh no….But this was not supposed to occur in real life; this only happened in horror movies or stories.

_I have bad news for you, Cristina. This is not a movie where the main character almost always lives at the end and beats the killer. You need to get a hold of yourself. Oh shit! Here he comes!_

"Stupid bitch! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Growled Mac upon finding her unbound and darting for the basement window. It would become his chore to make sure seals the window later to ensure she didn't sneak out. Though Cristina froze in place at the sight of him, his fury refused to be snuffed down. "Now, you're fucking trying to escape!" No time was wasted as he stomped over towards Cristina, cornering pathetically against the wall and towered over her petite body the way a predator does its prey. He placed his hands on either side of her on the cemented wall, fencing her in, practically daring her to hit him again. "You and I both know you could've crawled through that window and hell, you would've made it but you didn't. And that's real stupid of you…" He mulled over the situation as if he were questioning her intelligence. "But what would you have done afterwards, hmm? If I didn't catch you then my German shepherd would have. That wouldn't end well for the two of us. You'd be his lunch so now, if I were you, I would behave."

Cristina sunk deep inside herself, a pang of fear striking her in the stomach. She was deathly afraid of dogs and was nearly in their company after a terrible experience which happened at the age of four. She nodded her head; it was better to be prisoner for now instead of being lunch for a mangy mutt with vicious teeth and a snapping jaw.

"I'm the only one who can tame him so it's my decision if he's harmless to you." He glared intensely, his eyes pure black like his soul must be. His stare was enough to paralyze her.

"I won't, Mac." She pleaded with him, knowing the dark look in his eyes meant nothing but trouble and pain. "I'm sorry for trying to escape…I'm sorry."

"You have no where to go, anways." He breathed, heat radiating off him. Lowering his eyes, he was greeted by her bare chest which caused him to go rigid, hard with a desire to fuck her right against the wall. Cristina saw this so she used her arms to cover herself to only have him slap them down. "No, keep your arms down." He continued on, squeezing her plump, creamy white pleases with those long, strong fingers, working them in a steady rhythm while she closed her eyes tightly as tears cascaded down her face. Pressing his body against hers brusingly close, grinding his throbbing erection against her crotch.

Opening her eyes, she found Mac staring into her desperate eyes, biting his lower lip and sucked on it. Moving her hands up, she pushed him off, having enough but Mac wouldn't have it…the bastard. He only grunted, licking the side of her face that was now bruised from his fist last nigh, flicking his tongue at her like a snake.

"Get off me!" She cried, pounding her fists into his chest in hopes of him backing off but fighting only proved to provoke him even more. "You fucking hick, get off me!" There was no control over her words for they spat out of her mouth like fire, while hot with distaste yet the second she allowed these words to slip from her lips, she regretted the action almost immediately as she watched Mac's face contort with absolute anger, his nostrils flaring.

There was one second when she expected to be hit, waiting for the initial blow to come to her already bruised face but when none came her way, relaxation took over. Catching her off guard, a hand coiled around her delicate neck, locking her in a death grip and threw her to the ground so hard her diaphragm seized up and for one frightening minute she was unable to breathe. Frantically, she gasped for air, clutching her throat as she felt bruised forming. Her chest heaved up an down in a desperate attempt to breathe but she was not allowed the chance to recover, considering the fact Mac bent down and smacked her across the face.

"I'm a fucking hick, huh? Well, then I guess you're a fucking bitch who doesn't know your place!" He snarled, yelling viciously into her ear like a rabid dog let loose on a poor, unsuspecting victim. His contorted expression reminded her of a deranged killer with the half crazed black eyes and snarling voice who wanted nothing more than to stick an axe in the center of her stomach. There were no doubts he would actually do it because…Jesus Christ…if he was given an axe she feared he'd butcher her to pieces to feed to his dog. "I ought to punish you."

"Mac, please…"

"No! You're gonna listen to me." He shifted his weight, getting down on his knees in front of her cowering form. "I don't know how it is in New Jersey but here this shit isn't tolerated and that includes going through people's stuff." He watched as she went to open her mouth so he clamped a hand over her mouth. "Try that shit again and I'll cut those pretty fingers of yours off. And don't think I'm too stupid to notice. These canyons have eyes and when I don't look, they'll tell me."

She imagined, much to her horror, Mac's hunting knife cutting through the skin on her fingers, moving the blade back and forth like a saw (unless he really did choose to use a saw in which this case she was screwed) or chopped right down to the bone. What would he do with her severed fingers? Hand them over to the dog? No, instead she visioned him bringing one of her fingers to his mouth with a devious, lustful smirk plastered to his face as he sucked her finger like a lollipop and licked it clean, sanitizing it of the blood that once stained it. His eyes would roll back in the back of his head, his head tilting back as he let out a low moan…she wanted to vomit just thinking about it.

"If you vomit, you'll just have to lick the floor clean." He warned, noticing how pale and sickly she suddenly became. Cristina didn't see as he rose from the and took a glance inside the cabinets but she jumped as soon as a plastic bucket was slammed down by her head. "You need to vomit, use this damn bucket. I don't have time to clean up your messes."

Mac thought of heading upstairs before he had to work but he opted to take care of the window first and it didn't take long to find a couple long pieces of wood, nails and a hammer since a majority of his supplies were stored with his work station. He then found it in his heart to give the bitch some clothing, figuring she'd need some type of _dignity_. If she were to escape, which he doubted, how abnormally strange would it seem if she were nude and running through Caineville? No one would ever get the luxury to have her except for him. His obsession finally came home to him and he'd be damned if anyone would, not here. Mac's property was well known therefore, it wasn't to be touched.

The last time she saw him before he left to do work god-knows-where was when he threw clothes at her: one of his old shirts and a worn pair of shorts he never wore. She found it odd that he stayed and watched her dress but soon she learned it was rational because he tied her up and this time, he made damn sure she couldn't untie herself; he even bolted the cabinets up as a precaution. After coming home stressed and pissed after a long day, he would hate to come home and discover her missing.

Mac left at his own leisure, turning off the generator which left her in the darkness all throughout the afternoon and part of the morning. He had tied her much more tightly this time around and she paid for it; the rope burned her wrists and ankles, biting into her flesh, disabling her from doing anything about her discomfort. There was no use thrashing around, tugging at her restraints because he won. The window was boarded shut, the cabinets bolted, and she was unable to move…what the hell was she supposed to do now?

_This isn't a movie where the victim miraculously escapes from their prison. Mac has you good now and he's already warned you about escaping. He might not kill you now but did you hear him say he'd set his dog on you? He almost choked you so when are you going to learn this IS ACTUALLY happening? When he kills you or cops your leg off? You need to get a grasp of reality before Mac does it for you…_

The better she grasped the hand of reality the better off she would be and just maybe, then, she would find the strength to overpower Mac and eventually escape.

_Overpower Mac? Ha! Like that will ever happen. Compared to him, I'm a deer and he's a fucking bear. If Uncle Samuel couldn't fight him-and he had a gun-then there's no way in hell I can take him. I'm trapped here._

Maybe she couldn't take on Mac but there was one thing she could do: get help from Sheriff Collins. He was her best bet, especially after he saved her from the greasy fuck at the Luna Mesa and she figured he would be helpful to her again but first she had to focus all of her attention on leaving this shit hole and fast. With Mac at work, she was given the opportunity to mull over a plan which, in time, might prove to turn into a fool proof plan. All she cared for was imaging finding Sheriff Collins so he could end her nightmare like a shining knight in armor. Seeing Mac in cuffs, being taken off to behind bars, brought a genuine and comforting smile on her face.

_He can't keep me here forever. Eventually, he'll grow tired of me but oh, god, I don't want to die. My disappearance is bound to show up within a few days…I don't think I can manage two more days of this…and Sheriff Collins will have to investigate. Due to my incident with Mac, I bet he'll interrogate him first like all good policemen would do in this case. Oh, yes! How could he not? I can't give hope up yet…he'll find me._

Her hopeful thoughts lulled her into a slumber; her body felt unable to function after today with her captor and if she was to do more planning then she needed to rest. The only sound she heard before drifting off was a german shepherd barking from outside.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: Sorry this took so long. I've had writer's block for the longest time but I'm back now. It feels good to be back. I hope you all like this and I'm kind of looking for someone to role play with (maybe Red Canyon RP or something) so if you'd interested, let me know.

Time did not matter when you were in prison because it only dragged on and if you glanced up at a clock then you would only want to die. What was the point in keeping track of time? To see when the day ends or to find the deadlines of work? Time was absolutely pointless in prison for it was endless like a black hole, sucking you into a mindless hell.

Cristina had no frame of time when she woke up on the cool, hard basement floor. All that she knew was that it must be evening because she listened carefully for the generator to kick on. This indicated that Mac was home. Her body tensed as he pressed her now dry, cracked lips together, seizing. Suddenly, she grew faint as her surrounds grew fuzzy in fear.

As Mac stomped down the wooden stairs, he grunted, mumbling about something and finally came into her view. The sleeves of his coveralls were rolled up to his elbows; his greasy dark brown hair was matted to his head; sweat ran down his face and the top half of his coveralls. He was disgusting, smelling of smoke and gasoline. Cristina wondered where he worked or at least where he went during the day. She couldn't imagine anywhere he'd be hired at but she guessed it was someplace like a mine or a cave. Was he even friendly with other people?

"I see you haven't moved an inch. That was wise of you." He eyed her with satisfaction. "And now, I guess you must be hungry." He was right; she was starving and thirsty. "I suppose you want me to cook up something for you, huh?"

She lifted her head up to glance up at him and met his unsympathetic stare. "Can I please have something to eat? And some water, too/"

"Greedy bitch…one or the other…"

"Please, Mac. Please…" Other than food and water, what else could she beg for, besides freedom?

She watched as he sighed, reaching for his hunting knife. "God, shut up and stop your crying! You wanna eat, don't you?" She wished she knew he was only going to cut the rope that bounder her but once he drew that blade out, that menacing blade, her eyes widened; her first instinct was to whimper at the thought of the damned object. Tucking his knife away, he grabbed her by the elbow, gripping her close to him hard enough to bruise the pale, delicate skin on her body. He dragged her up the stairs without protesting from Cristina which he was relieved by.

She felt like one of those homeowners who were looking to buy and Mac was her real estate agent who just finished showing her the basement where refreshments happened to be kept. Now, he was giving her a complete tour of the house and she was sure she'd never live in a shit hole like this. The house stunk worse than the basement but the only difference was that up here, it was dirtier with trash thrown around every room.

_It smells like something died in here. _

He sat her down at the rounded table in the kitchen as he went off to search for something edible for her to eat. In the fridge, he found, were leftover hamburgers that Walter gave him at the beginning of the week during his late night visit to the Luna Mesa. After taking a quick whiff of them, he judged they were still good so they good enough for her and deiced to heat one of the burgers up, fetching her a tall glass of water while he waited.

Since the hamburgers were made by Walter, there was no reason for her to be hesitant about eating but the condition the meat was now in ad her concerned. She may have not been starving (no, she didn't understand the true meaning of that word) but she was hungry enough to push the thoughts aside to wolf down the hamburger in under six minutes. The glass of water washed down the old taste; water, though it was warm, refreshed her but barely did enough for the dryness of her mouth. Asking for another glass probably would have been like being the match to ignite the fire. Pushing the hospitality was not a good idea.

Just as she finished her water, Mac set down a dog bowl on the floor and within seconds, a large, hungry dog came pawing in, its paws pounding against the wooden floor. The dog made no notice of the girl sitting at his owners table until he leaned down and began eating his dinner with Mac standing at to the side. Cristina couldn't help but panic, her heart beating a mile a minute. Her body refused to remain still as she tensed, wishing for the dog to finish eating and walk out of her sight.

"What no? You act like you've never seen a dog before." The greasy hick turned all of his attention back on her and apparently, she caught his pet's attention as well.

_I don't like dogs. I hate them. There's a scar on my left calf where bite marks are but I guess they slipped your sight and I don't blame you, Mac. The scars are so faint now you'd have to be fucking superman to notice. _

All words were caught in her throat once the dog turned around and stood on his hind legs, jumping up and placing its paws on her lap but her scream was terror was not caught.

"You're going to edge him on!" Mac yelled, pulling his now eager and curious pet off the frightened girl. "Beast won't bite you…at least not yet. Beast, leave her alone." Cristina couldn't comprehend the way he switched tones; he sounded surprisingly friendly to Beast but he spoke to her with such malevolence it made her ears bleed her skin crawl. One minute he would be this friendly guy and another minute he'd turn into an animal. A monster.

"And you…" A dirty finger was suddenly pointed at her, not nearly close enough to jab it in her chest. "You come with me." Giving her no time to respond, he lifted her up and out of her seat, proceeding on bringing her back down to the basement, despite her struggling. Being tied up became a routine for her and by then, her wrists burned from the roughness of the rope, leaving her the only option to stay still and stop struggling so much. Mac just laughed off her cries, telling her that if she never tried escaping then there would be no reason to restrain her. Whatever trust he must've had for her vanished but she doubted he ever carried any.

Her first night spent in the basement was unnerving and isolating. She tried pretending she was not bound in a greasy hick's basement with sweat pouring down her face from the heat of the desert and instead sleeping peacefully in her bed back in New Jersey but she had difficulty doing so. Her mind repeatedly returned to the events after arriving at Uncle Samuel's remote, dingy house. No matter what she dreamt of, the horror always returned as if fate meant for her to live it over as punishment. Wasn't this punishment enough?

For a while, she was kept busy by listening to Mac being up and about, the floor boards creaking above her before he decided to settle down and go to sleep. She wondered what he was doing up there, imaging him pacing back and forth or going from room to room with a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. He would stagger into the bathroom drunk, she visioned but she doubted he even bathed. The thought made her wrinkle her nose in disgust and agreed he was filthy. If he even did bathe on a good day, she would want to see for herself…No, she changed her mind; she was repulsed by the image of seeing him naked, his manhood, despite how gorgeous he had to be under all the grime. One term came to mind…'the beauty and the beast' which was out of the question.

_I'd rather have my legs broken than consider him at least a bit attractive. I would rather starve to death and have my remains fed to the coyotes than have him on top of me…He can never know that but by the time he even has time to consider, I'll be so far gone it won't even matter! I'd love to see the look on his face when it happens, when he's in cuffs! Actually, it doesn't really matter if he's arrested or not…as long as I fucking leave Caineville, I'll be victorious. But first, I'll need a plan._

When it came to planning, she was a failure, her mind as blank as a piece of paper owned by a writer who suffers from writer's block but hope seemed to be within her grasp so he would do her hardest to try. Unlike projects she could never plan, this was her life on the line and to not do nothing but play the helpless victim was suicide. And Mac knew just how weak she was which was her only chance to prove him wrong.

_There's no harm in trying but what happens if he catches you? I bet you didn't even think of that… _She loathed the voice in her head because it was right; she could not fathom ALL the things he was fully capable of once she became unruly. _He'll slice your fingers off, break your legs slowly with a hammer and you'll be screaming so much he'll have you begging to die but if he wanted you dead, he never would've went through all this trouble retrieving you. Whatever he said about Uncle Samuel selling you off, there has to be something about it. You need to find out to see what he did before it's too late. _

Why would Uncle Samuel do such a cruel deed, luring his niece out to the middle of no where for a vile, animalistic man to capture her like she was some rare, exotic creature? Had he and Mac gotten into a disagreement or conflict over something? The only thing Cristina could think of was her uncle owing him money but since he couldn't afford to pay him back, Mac decided he had to give him something valuable in order for the debt to be erased. Mac must've saw pictures of her in the living room-school pictures of with a radiant smile and glowing face. He fell for her, saying how beautiful she was and Uncle Samuel responded with, "That's my niece Cristina." Mac rolled out his tongue from between those blackened teeth, licking his lips as he stared intensely at her photograph, complementing what it would be like to have her in his tight clutches. Turning to the older man, he requests her in exchange for the amount of cash he lent to her uncle. She imagined her uncle in a fit of rage, refusing and cursing at Mac, telling him he was fucking crazy to even think it. But Mac, standing strong with dark, menacing eyes, shook his head: "Either you give me your niece or I'll kill you. Don't fuck with me, Samuel…You know I'll come in here and slit your goddamn throat. It's not like your niece will get the short end of the stick while you live. I really like her, Samuel, and damn is she pretty so I think I'll keep her. For good. I'll give you a day to think about it, old man…"

What happened next?

Most likely, Uncle Samuel found Mac the next day and agreed with desperation; he tried to reassure himself that Cristina wasn't close to him when in fact, she was the daughter he never had. Mac snorted a laugh and ordered him to pick up the phone and call her, asking he to "spend the summer" with her "dear uncle"; Mac bore his eyes straight through his, like daggers. Without her heart skipping a beat, Cristina guessed her uncle suddenly changed his mind without Mac's knowing. He had a change of heart upon seeing his niece's flawless face, how she held innocence that would be destroyed at the hands of Mac himself. His heart gave out, realizing the pathetic decision he made to his own life. It was worse than murder, sentencing this innocent, poor girl to a new life full of hell and torture; no one would even help him so he devised a plan to protect her at all costs. This made sense to her, why he forbid her to go out in the desert alone because he tried to change things but none of it mattered. He was dead and Cristina found herself bound in the basement of the very man he originally sold her to. It seemed that no matter how the events turned out, destiny meant for her to rot in this basement.

_I hope to god this isn't true. Mac is lying, I know it. He would say anything to make me suffer but it makes perfect sense. My uncle would never do that…yet I barely know him, not like I used to. When my aunt died, he went down hill, resorting to drinking and late nights which told to me from my mother who tried everything to help him, especially when he became tight with money. Could my uncle have become so desperate for money that he had to beg someone for cash? _She shut her eyes, praying to both God and her uncle that her theory wasn't true because if it was, she would die without a fight.


	4. Chapter 4

Cristina wished she knew what time it was when she awoke but guessed it was sometime in the morning, judging by the floorboards creaking. Her heart thudded, hoping he would leave her alone at least for a few hours until she could adjust again. She ignored the fact that she was thirsty since it was obvious he wouldn't be as sympathetic as he had been yesterday. Because of this, he could easily say she would be alright and starve her for two to three days which caused the young woman to whimper loudly.

_I should be lucky he was decent enough to feed me yesterday. I don't know what starving actually is._She licked her dry lips, hoping to make them moist until the privilege of receiving water was given to her.

Since Mac's work bench and station were stored down here, she had hoped that a sink was installed but even if one was, she was bound tight. Even if she desire to stand up or crawl, there was no way she would be able to and in her mind, his voice echoed through her: "You're not going anywhere." And then she begged him for water, having him only respond with: "You want something to drink? Drink this bottle of ammonia and you will be filled right up." _What would Mac do if I dared to refuse? Hold the bottle to my mouth and force it down my throat, poisoning me as he laughs devilishly? What's more scary, though? Him actually committing the act or me thinking it up?_

A full hour passed by before he felt like checking up on her as if he were a babysitter checking on a child who was supposed to be asleep to make sure they are, in fact, little angels sleeping on a cloud bed. "Morning, pretty Crissy." He teased, reaching in his jeans pocket, pulling out a silver rectangular tin. Opening it, he dipped a finger in and rubbed some white powder across his ugly, black teeth. "How's the floor treating you?" When he received no answer, he rambled on. "I bet you thought I forgot about you, that I would leave you all alone…"

She could only hope.

"I was eating breakfast," He practically rubbed in the fact of his stomach being full. "Toast and eggs with a cup of coffee…Damn was it good." She may have not been hungry at the moment but her mouth screamed for water. "I think that maybe for lunch, I'll have Walter cook me up a bacon cheeseburger…What? Am I torturing you?" He was trying his best to hide it but for one tiny second, she swore she saw a smirking on his face, like he was an overpowering demon.

She hated him.

"Heh, you look thirsty. Want something to drink? Open your mouth,"

Cristina could only anticipate Mac grabbing the sickening bottle of ammonia, coercing her into swallowing the harmful fluid. Instead, he drew saliva in his mouth, ready to spit straight into her mouth. But that never happened. Managing to bring her legs up, Cristina suddenly kick him square in the stomach. "Leave me alone you bastard!"

Rage flickered in the greasy hick's eyes as he pressed his lips together, making his jaw prominent and knelt down, pounding a fist into her jaw like a madman. The moment his fist connected with her face, a tooth cracked in the back of her mouth, then she tasted warm blood as it pooled onto her tongue. "You bitch!" His intentions were to yank her face terrifyingly close to his but was rudely stopped by Cristina giving him a face full of her blood. He meant to put her in her place, break her until she screamed, raising another fist when the sound of a door bell ringing echoed throughout the house, saving the poor girl from a vicious beating. Mac froze in midair, his dark eyes gazing up at the ceiling, nostrils flaring. Whoever this was on his doorstep, it better be damn good, he thought, whipping out a rag covered in sweat and grease.

She nearly vomited as the new gag was put in pl ace, choking her but as she tried spitting it out, Mac wagged a finger, the door bell continuing to ring. "You are to not make a single sound, regardless of who this goddamn person is. If you try to scream and I hear you, I will kill them. Do you understand?" Mac warned, speaking in a dark, menacing tone, almost demonic. "And if you try to get their attention, I'll have you begging to die. Be good and just maybe I'll think of untying you." For better understanding, he put a finger to his lips and stood, making his way up the stairs, leaving her to think about what just happened.

The plus side of the whole situation was that he left the door wide open for easy access to eavesdrop. Cristina strained her ears, lifting her head up for effect. _Who would ever come visit him? From what I saw, this place is a complete shithole. Maybe the mail man? Who the hell gets mail all the way out of here, though?_

"Morning Sheriff," Mac, being the "friendly" guy again, she imagined the warm, soft look he was giving.

_Wait! Did he say Sheriff?_Her eyes widened as her stomach churned.

"Hello, Mac. It's pretty nice out today, not too humid. I'm sorry to interrupt as I understand you have work today, no?" Sheriff Collins greeted him probably tipping his hat at the dumb hick.

"It's not a problem. I make my own hours, if you've forgotten…"

_What's the sheriff doing here? Does he know about me? Oh god…_

"Remember that new girl, Cristina Abernathy?" The sheriff asked, kindly interrogating.

Mac paused momentarily to make it seem like he was trying to remember the girl bound in his basement until it hit him like an oncoming truck. "Samuel Abernathy's niece, right?" He failed to say he had attacked her at the Luna Mesa but how on earth could the sheriff ever forget about that incident?

"Also the girl you forced yourself on…Forget about that?"

_The sheriff sounds upset.. He knows something is up…he has to, otherwise he would never have come here._

"I was drunk that night, sheriff. I apologized later on that night. Called her up once I sobered." Explained Mac, working his charm successfully. Cristina wasn't there to call him out on his bullshit so anything that came out of his filthy mouth was considered true. It was up to the sheriff if he believed it or not.

"That may be so but yesterday, I drive out to Samuel's house to check up on the poor girl and discovered his brains all over the living room and little Miss Abernathy long gone. I also found various signs of intrusion and I can't help but wonder one thing…Do you know anything about that, Mac?"

_He knows, he knows! Sweet Jesus, I'm going to be saved! He'll find out that I'm down here and take Mac into custody. I'll be untied and sent back to New Jersey and this nightmare will feel like a dream to me._

"You think I broke into their house and killed her uncle?" Mac sounded offended, gasping in horror at the accusation. "I didn't step foot near her or her uncle. After leaving the Luna Mesa, I came straight home to feed the dog. You can even ask Walter."

"Well, you did have an altercation with her that night…" The sheriff trailed off. "But if you say you weren't there…" The look Mac had to be giving him must've been serious, truthful because he instantly took back his accusation. "I didn't get reports of you showing up at the residence but you need to understand I'm only following the protocol."

"I understand, sir…"

"I'm sorry about this Mac. Have a good day, now." And with that, Sheriff Collins took off, leaving behind a satisfied criminal and a furious, frantic victim.

"No, no, no!" She screamed, no longer caring about Mac's warning. "Sheriff Collins! Come back! I'm down here! Sheriff! Help!" Her screams were muffled from the disgusting rag, though she tried being loud but by that time, he was already driving off in his police cruiser. _He fucking got away with it, that greasy fuck! He's out of the clear and free to do whatever he wants with me. What am I going to do now?_

Her mind flashed back to him promising to untie her. _No, he said he'll think about doing it. There's a difference between actually doing something and thinking of doing something._If he ever held onto his end of the bargain then just maybe she could find a way to distract him and finally escape. Like all her other ideas, it would be risky but her life depended upon it.


	5. Chapter 5

A while back, I lost my notes and since then I've been wondering what the hell to do with this story. I have a few things planned and I know this chapter is kind of short like the last one but it won't be that long before I update again, if you guys are still into this story…that is. I apologize for leaving you guys

As soon as the sheriff's cruiser drove off into the distance, Mac had the front door slammed shut and ran a dirty hand across his forehead, wiping the sweat from his face and sighed in relief. _This close. _He greasy hick had been this close to being busted by no one other than Sheriff Collins himself and after the altercation the other way, there was no way a little visit and light interrogation wouldn't come his way. He should have expected it but he had nothing to fear in the end. So easily was he able to charm his way out and was certain Walter would cover for him, like always. He might not have always been there for him but Mac knew that in some other way, he would be. Getting in trouble with the law, having murder and kidnapping on your record, wasn't something that wouldn't help you out here, unless scaring people off was your true intentions.

With the sheriff out of his way for now, there were other matters to attend to and one of them was tied up in his basement. Turning his head slightly, eyes glaring at the opening to the basement, no sounds could be heard except for the occasional whimpers he assumed were coming from Cristina. If she made any other noises while the sheriff was here then he was unaware of them which meant the goddamn noisy Sheriff Collins hadn't heard them either. And now with her end of the bargain held up, he'd have to reconsider his little promise to her which forced him to groan.

_Does the bitch even deserve to walk around free_, Mac thought, biting is lower lip. _She kicked me so why the hell should she get rewarded? She has no respect. _Samuel Abernathy described the girl as beautiful and as radiant as the sun but never did he mention what a mouth she had on her, calling him a fucking hick and bastard. And how she kicked him…no _respect._ He loved a feisty woman but was getting tired of her constant disobedience. He ought to whip her….Oh, he would love that, alright….

He could very well leave Cristina gagged and bound on the cement floor and close the basement door, leaving her there for god knows when and that would show her but he couldn't have her starve to death. He wanted her alive.

_She's making it real damn difficult for that, huh._ He thought long and hard before coming to the conclusion, he ought to feed her and see how things went. Trust wouldn't come, not for a long time, he judged but he'd watch her like a hawk. There would be no way in Hell he would ever leave her alone where she could just slip off. Mac's nightmare had to be Cristina escaping while his head was turned, running off to Sheriff Collins, and opening her mouth to him about all he'd done. Before she could even think about doing such a horrid thing, he would break her first, no matter how long it took. Eventually, she would speak and submit to no one but him. _Pfft…I'd like to see that happen. _

He reached for his hunting knife in his back pocket before remembering that last night, he left it on the messy end table in the bedroom when he went to sleep, never mind worrying about intruders. No one would dare venture over to his residence and try to break in. Without restraint, he could easy knock a person out with just two or three punches and with the knife he always carried, he was considered dangerous. Citizens of Caineville knew where their place was when it came to challenging the greasy hick so if he had his eyes set on something, it was all his.

Just as he grabbed his knife, tucking it into his back pocket, and started to go down the basement stairs, the phone went off.

_Fuck, who the hell could that be? _It could be either two people: Sheriff Collins or Walter. He debated over the two as he went to pick up the receiver and answer in a bitter, annoyed tone. "What do you want?"

"Oh, are you busy?" It was Harley. Again, Mac sighed in relief for not having to deal with the sheriff again but was still annoyed for the interruption.

"I was about to take care of something but I guess it'll have to wait now." _Well, I was going to go tend to the bitch but now she can wait. _

"Walter has a few things that need to be sent over to you so he hired me for the job."

"What does he have for me?" Mac demanded.

"A couple packages. I don't know what's inside them, though."

"That's fine," Mac breathe. "Just come on over and bring them to me. I don't have all day."

"Okay, okay…I'll be over in ten."

And with that, Mac hung up, nearly slamming the receiver down. He had ten minutes to clean things up which involved nothing but a few threats here and there. No time was wasted to go down to the basement and as soon as he reached the bottom step, Cristina Abernathy was glazing up at her abductor, eyes full of desperation and fear. She had no idea of what was really going to happen to her. He was unpredictable.

"Alright, listen up." Mac boomed, standing only a couple inches from her head. "I'm expecting another visitor so you better keep your fucking mouth shut, you hear? Harley's no threat and isn't too bright but if he ever finds out about you…word will get to the sheriff. Remember my promise to you? I might consider it if you stay put."

To Mac, she only nodded her head and attempted to muffle a 'yes' through the disgusting gag but with word of another person coming to the house, a second chance of getting help was being given to her and this time, she could not be ignored.


	6. Chapter 6

To Cristina, this _mystery man _was giving her the gift of another chance to find help and flea the greasy hick's house where shelter could come in and no longer have to live in this nightmare she was forced to call her life. If she wanted to gain back freedom and avoid the possibility of dying in the near future, she would have to act fast, but how she would go about getting this person's attention, she was absolutely clueless. She was unable to move or speak at the moment and she was fairly certain with the way she was struggling to free her tight bounds from the rope, she would be at risk for serious burns which the young girl knew already started the day before and that distracted her from conjuring up any plans.

If she could muster up the strength to move her body, despite the obvious disadvantages, then perhaps something could be done. _I could find a way to make noise…like bang against something. The wall? The cabinet…maybe I can get myself close enough so I can kick it. If I'm loud enough and persistent, someone would have to notice. They would just have to…_She spent what seemed like ten to twenty minutes trying to come up with a more brilliant, elaborate plan which was impossible at the moment for her mind was completely blank, shot from exhaustation and the heat that was starting to seep in from the dry, unmerciful desert outside; it was most likely fairly cooler in the basement where the thick cemented walls blocked a lot the humidity and sun's rays out and there was nothing to be done about it.

_If you want to get the hell out of here, Cris, you'll have to listen to me… _The voice inside her head sounded determined and strong, unlike herself who lay helplessly on the ground like an animal left to die. And maybe she would end up that way which was why she had to try again. _Just try, darling. I know I said that before but if you don't try to do something and just allow yourself to be the victim, you'll end no where or in a body bag somewhere...And it's not like you're alone, now are you? You've got me. From time to time, I like to think of us as friends. Come on, Crissy. Your mother lost your father not too long ago. Don't let her lose another family member…_

Cristina shut her eyes as if she were being a shown a video of her distraught mother and the grief that hardly ever left her no matter how many pills she swallowed. _Do you remember Momma? For two and a half months, she locked herself in her and Daddy's room with nothing but that fucking photo album. She'd scream if anyone took it out of her hands. Remember how you got through to her eventually, saying it's alright to miss him and be sad but with her, you'll learn to move on? If word gets to her and you're never found or worse….your corpse is discovered, how do you think she'll feel? They will be no else to comfort her like you did for her, not even Uncle Samuel. Do you really want to put her through that? _

"Fucking stop," She mumbled to herself in a desperate attempt to shut up the voice. "Don't you think I know that? The thought of putting her through more heartbreak kills me more than anything and I'd do absolutely fucking anything to get safely back to her, in her arms…_JUST FUCKING STOP!" _Thinking negatively wasn't something she could afford at the moment for she feared if she found herself lost within them, she'd be trapped within the abyss of no return, tightly gripped into Mac's clutches until death became the final option.

Before the voice was able to speak, the sound of the door bell followed by a booming voice interrupted the internal conflict. Mystery man had arrived at last….

She had her ears alert, one of the last abilities not rendered useless for the time being but she could barely make out anything. She was farther away from the wooden stairs and the door was closed unlike when Sheriff Collins had been here and the door was left wide open for eavesdropping. It was almost as if Mac knew she'd try something. She was always trying to ruin his plans for keeping his pet in his possession. The only thing, however, she managed to hear were the floorboards creaking. The mystery man's (She swore that Mac said his name but she couldn't remember) footsteps were different from Mac's. Mac's were more dominate and heavy while the other man's made it seem like he were wearing cowboy boots of some sort (and she knew after growing accustomed to listening above her).

_Fuck…I wish I knew what the hell they were saying up there and who is this guy? A friend, haha…I doubt that very much but how would I know…the hick is friendly to everyone except for me. _Well, she did get off on the wrong foot with him….Why was she even thinking about this? What was wrong with her? Mac was a grimy and disgusting human being…Never in a millions years would she ever associate with him.

_**Never. **_

_He may have more of a social life than I could possibly have, I'm betting it's not much. From the looks of it, most of the townspeople are cautious of him and whatever accusations they hold towards him are most likely true. How many did he kidnap and keep like a dog before I came along? I wonder what their rumors are and why Uncle Samuel didn't say anything before…Oh, Uncle Samuel…_

_...what is that? A motor outside? _The engine of Mac's truck suddenly roared to life and for the first time in days, Cristina never thought she would be so delighted to hear it but it also gave her false hope. If he was leaving then what about the mystery man? Surely, he would climb in the truck with him?

_Oh no…please don't let that be the case. Mystery man, whoever you are, promise me you won't leave with him. I'm trapped down here, please help me. I need help…Don't let my plan be butchered. _

"Dumb asshole! I should have went to Walter's place myself. You were always so damn unreliable! Fuck!" Mac's relentless and angry yelling echoed throughout, meaning he had the truck near the basement window outside. He had sounded so close. "Have to do everything myself. You best stay here while I take care of business myself!" Letting out several more profanities, the truck door was slammed and within thirty seconds, the tires screeched. Whatever problem transgressed between the two men, Cristina was glad for it.

This was her chance.

Cristina made an attempt to thrust her body forward, to the right where the work station was. A lousy attempt was made a second later, swinging her bound legs in hopes of swaying herself an inch or two. She then worked on her upper body, grunting and forcing herself to struggle until she finally managed to wiggle and half ass crawl while on her side. By the time she was two quarters on the way, the front door opening erupted and she knew the mystery man was in the house. To ensure she wouldn't get caught, she pushed herself harder, hoping Mac wouldn't come back so soon and the other man wouldn't leave.

_Come on, Crissy! That's it, girl…You're almost there, I can see it! You're doing so good. Keep going, keep going, keep going…and you're there! I knew you could do it. Now all you have to do is make enough noise to draw him down here. We can do this. _

When she managed to reach the work station, she hoped this plan of hers would be successful because if it wasn't, she would be fucked royally. In order for this to work, she spent a few minutes to position bound arms so that she could use her hands to push herself up, bare knees sliding against the cold cemented floor and bent, and rolled herself onto her back, facing the work station. With easy access, she dragged her legs up and brought them down against the door of the cabinet. The first time was a flop, banging her foot on the corner but the second and third time proved to be just right. She continued banging until she heard footsteps stop upstairs.

_Maybe he heard you. Kick it again… _And she did. She was also right.

The knob on the basement door was being turned and she kicked at the cabinet one last time before letting out a scream for help which was horribly muffled against the gag.

"Hello? Is anyone down there?" Called out the mystery man whose voice held a combination of being timid and curious. "Hello?" Another muffled scream escaped from her dry, cracked lips, this time being heard by the young man.

_You did it, Cris! Oh, you really did!. _

As he ventured on down the wooden stairs, descending into Hell, Cristina's heart pounded in her chest like a drum, ready to burst at any second. This was too good to be true. Being rescued was a dream Cristina Abernathy played over in her head constantly since that fateful night, never expected to come true but to help her survive the imprisonment. Maybe there was a God out there who desperately wanted her to live by sending down an angel to protect her from the demons that lurked the darkest parts of the earth, ready to strike unsuspecting victims without warning. All her praying, all her pleas to be released were finally answered. If she was able to, she would climb up on her knees and shamelessly kiss each of his feet and grant him anything he desired. _Thank god…I'm saved._

"Whoever's down there, you ought to stop being a pester, you hear? Or are you just a rat Mac's been complaining out the past week? I hate rats, vile little creatures." The mystery man looked to be an office with the beige police uniform he was wearing. He had short, blonde hair and eyes blue eyes that resembled the clear blue sky on a perfect summer's day. The heels of his cowboy boots clanked against the hard floor the same way women's shoes would. The first thing Cristina noticed was the uniform. How lucky was she to have a sheriff and an officer show up on the exact same day?

The first thing Harley noticed once he climbed down the dirty, old steps was the bound body of a helpless girl lying on the ground no more than two feet away. He would have to be dumb to not recognize who she was. Back at the station, Sheriff Collins set up a missing person's case after investigating Samuel Abernathy's house. Harley knew Mac became possessive of the women he ended up with or took interest in him and knew of the battery charges against him but never did he imagine Mac would steal this poor girl away like a pet dog and torture her. No, that wasn't the Mac he grew up to know but people change…

It was almost painful to stare at her. She titled her head back to get a look at him and for one quick second, he saw the silent plea in her eyes as she fought against the burning rope. He swore he heard her mutter "help" but he wasn't entirely sure, then there were the bruises that etched the side of her face, the blood that was trickling out of her mouth from when the greasy hick savagely punched her and unintentionally cracked on of her teeth. It was pretty clear to the young man she was Mac's property but his heart ached at the sight, sinking down to his intestines. No one deserved to be treated that way, especially pretty girls who were sweet and harmless. He remembered talking to the girl's uncle a few weeks ago when he let it slip she'd be visiting him for the summer and told him (as well as fucking Mac) about her. She was a sweet thing, like a dainty flower in his eyes. He could not leave her like this, knowing she was suffering. At least, he would remove the horrid gag…

As if she were a dog who would snap viciously at him, Harley walked towards her cautiously before slowly bending down beside her. For a moment, he noticed her cringe but quickly relaxed once it was explained no harm was to come from his own hands.

"Hey, now…I'm not gonna hurt you. Just gonna help you out, alright?" And with that, he gently pulled the gag out of her mouth, giving him an ugly sight of blood which stained the gag as it flew down around her neck as well as her mouth and lips. Cristina leaned forward to spit out a small puddle of blood, along with one of her back teeth before heaving as if she were about to vomit. "That gag looked painful…You'll be alright now…."

"Will you please help me? Oh god…please? He-he killed my uncle and brought me here. I don't know what else he'll do to me so please…." The words barely came out of her mouth as choked sobs erupted from her hysterically. No more words came from her except for fearful cries that refused to cease.

"You're a mess. I'll clean you up nicely before Mac comes back…." Harley's words pierced through her heart like a dagger, her eyes widening with terror. He didn't sound like he was going to rescue her at all.

_No, no, no, no! Please don't leave me here! Oh god, sir…you can't. _

"No, you don't understand!" She half screamed at him, broken up into sobs. "You can't leave me here! Please, oh please, don't you leave me here with him! He'll hurt me or worse…He killed my uncle! PLEASE!"

Harley's only reaction, other than wincing from her screams, was to stroke her beautiful, brown hair which glistened in sunlight if given the opportunity. "Shh…don't you worry your pretty head…You'll be alright. He won't hurt you again."

"Oh please…I'll do anything you want if you let me go. Anything, I swear."

Unlike Mac, he had a conscience and if he stood up and walked away right now, leaving her here left for Mac to use until she wore out and bored him, it would eat at him. He would only undo her bounds to set her free because it was the right thing to do.


End file.
